The Crossroad
by Elizabeth5
Summary: Marguerite must make a difficult decision. M/R, kind of N/V.


The Crossroad  
by Elizabeth Gilliland  
  
"Two roads diverged in a wood and I ,  
I took the one less traveled by  
And that has made all the difference"  
- Robert Frost  
  
Marguerite looked down at herself disgustedly. " I'm filthy!" She moaned dejectedly,   
cringing at the dirt encrusted beneath her fingernails and at her mud-stained clothes. Her hair   
was disheveled and hung wildly about her face, and her usually well-kept clothes were mussed and   
sloppy.  
To Roxton, she looked beautiful.  
Of course, he couldn't say that, so instead, he quipped, " Marguerite, really, you're   
starting to attract flies."  
  
She turned a glowering gaze to him. " Quiet, Lord Roxton, or you'll receive a nasty   
surprise in your bed tonight." She had meant a snake, of course, but her face turned crimson as   
she suddenly realized how the comment might be misconstrued.  
A slow grin spread across Roxton's face at her obvious discomfort. " Is that a promise?"  
  
Summerlee interrupted before she could think of a proper comeback. " And how are the both of  
you this fine afternoon? Ready to be relieved of your duties?" It had been Veronica's idea to   
expand the garden, and the group had alternately been spending the day preparing a new plot of   
land. Marguerite and Roxton had been toiling on it for the past two hours, and now it was time   
for Summerlee and Challenger to step in.  
" Oh, I'm relieved, all right." Marguerite said, shooting a meaningful glance at her hunting   
companion. With a toss of her dark head, she stalked off to the tree house. Roxton shook his   
head and then followed after her.  
" Hey, Marguerite-- what's the rush?" he called after her, grinning mischievously. " Don't   
you want to give me that 'nasty surprise'?"   
Marguerite whirled to face him. " You know perfectly well what I meant, John Roxton." She   
shook her head, angry at herself for having made the comment and even more angry at herself for   
being amused with Roxton.  
Roxton studied her face carefully. " Why, Marguerite," he said teasingly, " are you   
blushing?"  
Marguerite smiled despite herself. " No," she lied, though her red face was quite apparent.   
" I'm just over heated from slaving all day." She gave another toss of her head. " What are you  
smiling at?"  
  
Roxton grinned at her. " Just thinking of a few nasty surprises of my own." Marguerite's   
blush deepened. Roxton had just opened his mouth to elaborate when his eyes trained on the   
bushes behind her. " Marguerite-- watch out!"  
  
But it was too late. A half-naked man with primitive blue and red designs covering his lean,  
wiry chest rose from the forest growth and shot a blow dart at the dark-haired woman. The dart   
pierced the flesh of her neck, and she let out a cry of surprise before the stranger turned and   
disappeared into the jungle.  
Roxton was at her side in an instant. " Are you all right?"  
  
" Fine." Marguerite answered, annoyed as she pulled the dart from her skin. " Just another   
perfect ending to another perfect day. Whatever he was trying to do didn't--" a sudden wave of   
dizziness came over her, "--work." With a slight moan, she collapsed into Roxton's arms.  
  
  
Roxton paced the tree house nervously as Summerlee examined Marguerite in her room.   
Malone noted the open worry that he saw in Roxton's face; the man was a wreck. His hair was   
disheveled, his clothes rumpled, and he seemed to have aged ten years in the short half hour   
since he had come running back to the tree house with Marguerite's limp body in his arms.   
Malone, himself, had been struck with panic at the sight. True, Marguerite could be selfish and   
manipulative, but she had become almost like a sister to him now, and he didn't want to lose her.  
The panic in Roxton's face far outweighed the tenseness that Malone felt. *If only Marguerite  
could see how concerned he is for her*, Malone thought. It was a sight that would probably   
humble even the dark-haired heiress.  
" What's wrong with her?" Roxton asked as a very tired Summerlee emerged from Marguerite's   
bedroom. " Will she be all right?"  
  
" Fine, fine," Summerlee assured him. " The liquid on the tip of the dart was not toxic--   
merely a sleeping potion that should wear off rather soon."   
The relief on Roxton's face was extraordinary. He covered his face momentarily to hide the   
tears of relief that sprung into his eyes. After a moment, he looked up again. " Is there   
anything I can do?"  
  
Summerlee placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. " It's all right, Roxton. There's   
nothing that you can really do. At the moment, she's just sleeping..."  
  
  
  
Marguerite looked around, confused and disoriented by the strange people that danced   
around her and the multi-colored garb that they wore. Outlandish and exotic music filtered   
through the air, and there seemed to be no real purpose to the fluid, rhythmic movements of the   
people around her.  
All at once, the music stopped. Marguerite looked up to see a tall, regal man towering on a   
stand above her. He wore a long, flowing robe, and a jewel plated crown rested on his head. Her  
eyes lingered on the jewels encrusted in the gold plating of his crown-- were those rubies?--   
until she became aware of the man's amused expression as he followed her gaze. Guiltily, she   
turned her focus to the forms near the man's throne. In contrast to his great height, two   
midgets stood beside him, wearing the ridiculous costume of a court jester.  
" King Dalla wishes to address you." the midget to the right informed her.  
" He wishes to help you." said the left midget.  
" Help me?" Marguerite repeated, confused. She turned to face the king. " Help me with   
what? And where am I?"  
" Silence, mortal." the right midget spat contemptuously. " You will not speak to King Dalla  
unless spoken to."  
Marguerite tilted her head defiantly. " Listen, Shorty--"  
  
" The Great King Dalla, ruler of dreams, wishes to aid you, good mortal woman." the left   
midget intervened soothingly, ignoring her outburst. " He likes you, good lady. You amuse him."  
Marguerite smiled, pleased despite herself. " Really?" She gave a slight bow in the king's   
direction. "I'm honored."  
  
" You should be. King Dalla does not like many mortals." the right midget informed her. "But  
he likes you. In fact, he once wished for you to be the bearer of his offspring."  
  
"What?" Marguerite cried incredulously, taking a step back. " I'd say that's jumping the gun  
a bit, wouldn't you?"  
" Don't worry, good lady." the left midget said, tone remarkably calming . " He knows that   
your heart lies with another. That is why we must help you."  
  
Marguerite felt her heart lurch. " Why? Is Roxton in trouble?"  
  
" The one you call Roxton will die this evening," the right midget informed her, " unless you  
intervene."  
  
" Of course," Marguerite cried, too panicked by the thought of losing Roxton to really care   
that these strangers seemed to know all the secrets of her heart, " I'll do anything." And she   
meant it. True, he could be annoying and frustrating and could drive her to utter distraction,   
but what good would a life without Roxton be?  
" Even give your life?" the left midget asked softly.  
Marguerite stared at him, dumbfounded. " What are you talking about?" she asked finally,   
mouth dry.  
" Your life is at a crossroad." the right midget explained. " Either choose to save your   
life or the life of your Roxton. King Dalla does not wish to see your life wasted, but he wants   
you to decide your fate for yourself."  
  
Heart sinking, Marguerite fell back a step. To choose between saving herself or saving   
Roxton? What kind of a decision was that? She loved Roxton, deny it as she might, but to give   
up her own life...to be nothing more than a cold, rotting corpse...  
" We know this will not be an easy decision," the left midget said, giving her a sympathetic   
smile, "but perhaps it will be made easier if you can see the outcomes of what will happen if you  
make either choice."  
  
" Yes," Marguerite replied, nodding almost mechanically. "Yes, maybe that would help."  
The right midget came forward and took her hand in his small, childlike palm. " Come. I will  
show you the first."   
  
  
They were back at the tree house. It was night time, and Roxton was sitting next to the   
new generator Challenger had made, reading one of Veronica's father's books. Marguerite looked   
down to see her two midget companions. " What's going on?" she inquired. " What's happening?"  
  
" In approximately one minute, Challenger's new generator will explode, killing Roxton." the   
right midget explained. " All the others are out trying to gather a 'get well feast' for you, and  
won't be back in time to save him. It will only take a few moments to explode. You won't have   
time to warn him. The only way to save him is by covering his body with your own."  
Marguerite was afraid to ask. " And if I don't?"  
  
" He will be killed." the right midget said bluntly. " Painfully, but quickly."  
  
Marguerite swallowed heavily, pained as she looked at Roxton, who was so blissfully unaware   
of what his fate would soon be. " How much longer does he have?"  
  
" A moment or two." the left midget informed her gently.  
" I don't want to see it." Marguerite said, turning away and closing her eyes. When she   
opened them again, she was standing in a crowded ballroom. Her eyes widened in surprise. " Where  
am I?"  
" You wanted to see what would happen if you didn't save Roxton." the right midget reminded   
her. "This is it."  
  
Marguerite felt her breath catch in her throat. " Am I...are we in London?" She could feel   
the excitement growing in her as she realized that they would eventually return home. " I can   
hardly believe it! Wait until I tell Malone and Rox--"  
  
She stopped as she realized her blunder. There would be no Roxton. He would be dead,   
probably for years by this time. Since she had first been stranded on the plateau, her only   
thought had been of how to return to London. But what good was London without Roxton? What good   
was life without him? *Could I ever really be happy again*, Marguerite wondered, *knowing that I   
could have saved him...but didn't?*  
Suddenly, the crowd fell silent. " What's going on?" Marguerite asked in a hushed whisper.   
" What's happening?"  
  
The midgets did not reply, just pointed to the top of the stairs. Marguerite felt the breath  
rush out of her lungs. Standing at the top of the stairs, decked out in a full bridal gown, was   
Marguerite, melancholy but hauntingly beautiful as she descended the stairs. And guiding her   
gently but detachedly was Ned Malone.  
" I get married to Malone?" Marguerite cried incredulously. " This can't be happening. You   
two must be drunk...or maybe I'm the one who's drunk."  
  
" After Roxton died, Challenger grew rather reckless. He believed it was his fault that   
Roxton had been killed. One night, when he went out hunting alone, Veronica went after him. She  
was attacked by a raptor and killed. With the burden of the deaths of Veronica and Roxton,   
Challenger killed himself." the right midget said, voice emotionless.  
" Ned never really recovered from the death of Veronica." the left midget said gently. " The   
two of you turned to each other out of mutual grief and loneliness."  
  
" But there is no love there," the right midget informed her, " other than that of good   
friends. Though your marriage will be a long and comfortable one, the two of you will never   
truly love each other as you had once imagined loving Veronica and Roxton."  
  
Marguerite watched as her future self reached the bottom of the steps with Malone on her arm.  
Summerlee was there to greet them, his smile gentle but sad. He, too, seemed to realize that   
this was not the way it should have been. " I'm so happy for you both," he said warmly, taking   
one of each of their hands in his own, " you deserve the greatest happiness."  
  
Marguerite turned and gave Malone a fleeting smile. " Thank you, Summerlee," she whispered   
softly, voice tinged with melancholy. Marguerite stared at her future self with wonder. Where   
was all of her fire, her passion? Who was this shell of a woman standing before her?  
  
The scene changed suddenly and Marguerite found herself in a bedroom. Malone was lying on   
the bed, sound asleep, but her future self was awake in the night, tears streaming down her   
cheeks as she muffled her sobs with her pillow.  
" Roxton," her future self murmured, and Marguerite's heart shattered at the sound. She had   
known Roxton's death would be painful, but this...the hopelessness, the pain in her voice...it   
was unbearable.  
Malone stirred in the night. " Marguerite?" he asked softly, turning to face her. Seeing   
her mournful state, he wordlessly pulled her into his arms. " Shhh. It's all right." It was a   
more brotherly gesture than a romantic one, but still it touched Marguerite's heart. At least   
there was some good come of this.  
" I'm so sorry." Marguerite whispered, clutching at Malone's night shirt. " I'm so sorry. I  
just...I feel like I'm--"  
  
" Dead." Malone finished for her, and by the haunted expression on his face, Marguerite knew   
he felt the same way. She felt her heart aching to the point of bursting. To deprive herself of  
the love of Roxton was bad enough, but to deprive Malone of being with Veronica? How could she   
live with that knowledge?   
" Show me the other way," Marguerite said, turning to the midgets. " Show me what would   
happen if I die."  
  
The scene changed suddenly, and once again, they were in a crowded ballroom in London. Only   
this time, it was Roxton at the head of the stairs, and he was escorting a very blonde, very   
pretty woman down the stairs in a white gown. His blushing bride. Marguerite felt herself   
growing sickened at the sight. Roxton was actually smiling. He didn't seem to be all that   
heartbroken about losing her.  
The rest of the plateau party was at the bottom of the stairs waiting for him. *All alive   
and well*, Marguerite thought wryly. Particularly Veronica, who was quite noticeably pregnant.   
*She must have found her parents*, Marguerite thought, *Otherwise, she would have never come   
back*. Marguerite smiled despite herself. As much as she didn't get along with her blonde   
companion, there wasn't any couple who deserved happiness more than Veronica and Malone did.  
" Great," Marguerite said wryly, " Roxton dies and the whole world falls apart. I die, and   
everyone lives a long and happy life."  
" Well, long, anyway." the left midget said, then motioned to the group. Marguerite turned   
her attention to her friends.  
" All the happiness in the world, my boy." Challenger said, clapping Roxton on the back. " If  
anyone deserves it, it's you."  
  
" We're so happy for you, Roxton." Veronica said.   
" The only thing that could make today better was if..." Malone let the words trail off and   
then looked quickly away.  
Challenger cleared his throat, eyes glistening with unshed tears. Marguerite looked in   
wonder. " Why, George, I didn't know you cared so much."  
" Challenger felt responsible for your death, as well." the left midget explained. " But   
Roxton was able to convince him to work out his grief before it became a danger to him. You were  
too consumed with your own guilt to be any real help to him."  
  
Summerlee, sensing the change in mood, turned to face Roxton's bride. " Well, my dear   
Andrea, we're all anxious to get to know the woman who has so captured Lord Roxton's heart."  
  
As the group made small-talk, Marguerite circled Roxton's new wife. She took in her shining   
blue eyes, long, luxurious blonde hair, and small, slender body. " She's pretty." Marguerite   
admitted, trying vainly to cover the jealousy and hurt that welled inside her. " A little too   
blonde, if you ask me."   
*That should have been me*, Marguerite couldn't help but think, try as she might to push the   
thought away.  
She turned abruptly to the two midgets. " Well, it looks like everyone is perfectly happy   
without me. Malone and Veronica are together, everyone's back in London, and Roxton is..." She   
swallowed, then paused a moment to regain her composure. " They might be a little bit mournful,   
but no one seems to really miss me that much."  
  
" You might be surprised." the left midget said.  
The room blurred again and it was night time. The crowd had disappeared, and Roxton and his   
new bride were alone in the room. " Well," Roxton said, " I guess it's just the two of us."  
  
Andrea smiled coyly at him. " I guess so."  
Abruptly, Roxton pulled her to him and began to kiss her passionately. Marguerite turned   
away quickly. " And this is supposed to make me feel better?"  
  
" Just watch." the left midget instructed her kindly.  
Marguerite turned back, wincing at the sight of Roxton so firmly entangled in his wife's   
arms. He certainly didn't seem to remember or miss her. *He dies, and I become a wreck*,   
Marguerite thought,*I die and he forgets that I ever existed*.  
" Marguerite," Roxton whispered, intensifying his kisses. Marguerite stiffened. Had Roxton  
just said her name on his wedding night to another woman? Maybe things weren't so hopeless as   
she thought...  
Apparently, Marguerite wasn't the only one who had noticed his little blunder. " What did   
you call me?" Andrea asked, pulling from Roxton's embrace.  
Roxton turned away, running a half-panicked hand through his short, dark hair. " Nothing."  
  
" You called me Marguerite." Andrea said coldly, voice tinged with anger.  
Roxton buried his face in his hands. " I'm sorry, Andrea-- I didn't mean it."  
  
Andrea rose up angrily to her feet. " What does a girl have to do, anyway, to get you to   
forget Marguerite Krux?"  
  
" It's not that simple, Andrea." Roxton informed her. " She saved my life. She gave her   
life for me. A man just doesn't forget something like that."  
" No." Andrea said, shaking her head sadly. " You don't want to forget her because you're   
still in love with her." Tears trickled down her cheeks. " Can you honestly look me in the eye,   
John, and tell me that you haven't been thinking of her every time you kiss me? That you haven't   
wished it was her that you were marrying instead of me?"   
Roxton didn't reply, just lowered his gaze. " Good night, John." Andrea said, then quickly   
headed up the stairs.  
Silently, Roxton leaned forward and rested his face in his hands. " Marguerite," he   
whispered, "why couldn't you have just let me die?"  
  
Marguerite stared at him, conflicting emotions churning through her. " What happens to him?"   
she asked. " After tonight, I mean?"  
  
The left midget met her gaze. " Roxton and Andrea stay together for the next fifty years   
before he dies in his sleep. They have three children and eleven grandchildren. Challenger   
receives some minor fame for his experiments, Summerlee becomes a professor at Oxford, and Malone  
and Veronica live a long and happy life together."  
  
" So basically, everyone is happy." Marguerite said, surprised at how painful that knowledge   
was.   
" It is time to make the decision." the right midget informed her. " We will give you a   
moment to think before we allow you to wake and act on your decision. King Dalla wishes you   
well."  
  
Marguerite sat in silence, mind racing. " Do I save my own life and let everyone else be   
miserable?" she asked herself aloud. " Or do I give my life and let Roxton marry someone else?"   
She shook her head. Either way, she lost. She could either die or live a miserable life, lose   
Roxton to the grave or to the arms of another woman. It was hopeless. She buried her face in   
her hands, nearly mirroring the action that Roxton had made just moments before. Why was this so  
hard? She knew it was a selfish sentiment, but she didn't want to die. But nor could she bear   
the thought of sitting around and letting Roxton die, either...  
Suddenly, her eyes fluttered open. Dazed, she looked around to find she was in her own   
bedroom. It was time. Barefoot and clad only in her nightgown, Marguerite rose to her feet. She  
hesitated for a moment, just a moment.  
And then she ran.  
Heart pounding, mouth dry, she ran through the tree house at what seemed like a painfully   
slow pace. Memories crowded her mind-- of her childhood, her time on the plateau, but mostly of   
Roxton. Images of his smile, his laugh, his warmth and kindness. *I love you, Roxton*, she   
thought as the tears came, *I love you, I love you, I love you...*  
And there he was, sitting and reading a book. So peaceful, so unaware of what was about to   
come. He glanced up as she came in sight. " Marguerite, what's going--"  
  
With a burst of speed, Marguerite threw herself to shield his body just as the generator   
exploded.  
  
  
" Marguerite!" Roxton screamed, gathering her into his arms. "Marguerite!!"  
The elevator opened and the rest of the group stepped into the tree house, bearing fruits and  
roots and all sorts of wonderful delicacies for the 'get well' feast in Marguerite's honor. It   
was immediately forgotten at the sight of a limp Marguerite in Roxton's arms.  
" What happened?" Veronica cried, rushing toward them. She stopped at the sight of   
Marguerite's badly burnt flesh. " Oh, my gosh..."  
  
" The generator exploded." Roxton explained, voice choked with emotion. " Marguerite...she   
threw herself in front of me..."  
  
" Oh, dear goodness," Summerlee breathed. " George, come help me get some salve from the   
lab!" The two older men turned and ran from the room.  
  
" She isn't breathing!" Malone cried, and Roxton sprung into action. Forcefully,   
persistently, Roxton began to perform mouth to mouth resuscitation.   
" Come on, Marguerite." Veronica called. " Don't die on us!"  
  
  
  
" Miss Krux," a calm, soothing voice spoke. " Miss Krux..."  
  
Marguerite looked up and was stunned to see King Dalla, himself, standing before her. With   
the two midgets speaking for him all the time, she had assumed that he couldn't talk, but here he  
was, speaking to her in that firm but gentle voice.   
" I welcome you, Miss Krux," he said, bowing slightly before her. " It seems that we have a   
slight dilemma."  
  
" Dilemma?" Marguerite repeated, still feeling rather dazed. Was she dead, or was she   
dreaming again?  
As if he had read her thoughts, King Dalla informed her, " I'm afraid you are dead, Miss   
Krux." He paused, letting this information sink in. "I understand this is rather disturbing for   
a mortal to learn."  
  
" I'd say so." Marguerite said wryly, swallowing back the lump that formed in her throat.  
" The dilemma is that I was unexpectedly touched by your sacrifice." King Dalla informed her.  
" I usually make it a habit not to interfere in mortals' lives. I broke that habit once today.   
The real question is-- should I break it a second time?"  
  
  
  
" Breathe, Marguerite, breathe!" Roxton half-pleaded, half-commanded. " Blast it,   
Marguerite-- don't you die on me! Not now! Not like this!"  
  
Challenger and Summerlee re-entered the room. Challenger was carrying two small, metal   
paddles. "I've heard cases of electric jolts being able to revive people." Challenger explained,   
moving in front of Roxton. " This may be our last chance." He pulled open Marguerite's nightgown  
and placed the paddles on the flesh of her chest. " Now, Summerlee!" Summerlee flipped the   
switch on the electric source that was connected to the two paddles. The jolt twisted   
Marguerite's lifeless body but produced no other real result. Roxton turned away as Challenger   
once again pressed the paddles to Marguerite's body.  
Nothing.  
Challenger tried once more in vain, then sat back, dejected and defeated. " I'm so sorry,   
Roxton."  
  
Roxton whirled back around. " No-- try again! Please, you have to try again!"  
  
" It's no use, Roxton." Summerlee said gently. " She's gone."  
  
" No!" Roxton fell to his knees beside her. Forcefully, he began to try to resuscitate her   
again. Tears streamed unabashedly down his face. " Oh, gosh-- Marguerite, no...no...no."  
  
Veronica turned away, battling tears of her own, and Ned angrily overturned the nearby table.  
The tree house was eerily silent.   
Suddenly, Marguerite gasped.  
The other explorers gaped at her in open shock as the eyes of the once dead Marguerite   
fluttered open. Stunned, they could only stare at her for a long moment.  
Roxton was the first to react. " Marguerite...Marguerite...Marguerite..." He repeated her   
name over and over, as though he was afraid he would lose her again if he stopped.  
" Did it work?" Marguerite asked tiredly, voice weak.  
" You're safe, Marguerite-- we're all safe." Malone spoke up, smiling tearfully at her.  
Marguerite closed her eyes and tightened her grip on Roxton's arm. " Thank you, King Dalla.  
Thank you."  
  
Veronica exchanged a confused glance with Malone. " King Dalla?"  
  
" Never mind," Summerlee said. " I think that Marguerite deserves a little rest. She's had   
quite a day."  
  
Marguerite laughed wearily. " You have no idea."  
  
Laughing that laugh of his, Roxton pulled her more tightly into his arms.  
  
  
The End  
  
  
  
  



End file.
